Sacred Flesh by Timothy Cavinder Page A

grandfather who attended the church as a boy wouldn’t have known either. There they all sat worshipping together completely unaware of the great secret that the church held, (the great secret lying so quietly among them.)

CHAPTER 41

 
 
    It seemed odd, almost like trouble itself which he certainly didn’t need any more of. The tiny coffee pot sitting next to the bathroom sink, “That’ll never be enough caffeine” he says to himself while pouring the water in: not trusting the ability of the device to deliver its morning boast. His mind wanders from thought to thought, staying in hotels never was his favorite thing to do. He quickly plays back the childhood vacations with his mother, father, and sister. His father driving around for hours just to find a motel deal, even if it meant only saving a few dollars. He presses the button and the red light comes on, soon the machine begins to gurgle. He walks out and sits on the edge of the bed flipping through the news channels. He can’t forget why he’s here, what’s brought him to this hotel by the airport, “I can’t stay here forever,” he says out loud to no one.
    He contemplates his next move: to fly or drive somewhere, can the Elite trace my credit card, my ATM card? He carries a large amount of cash, most of the Elite payment, they’ll want that too, they’ll get the sample, kill me and to top it off, take the cash too. But what would I want with it if I’m dead?
    After the breakfast buffet, I’ll drive north into sparse terrain and cooler climate maybe to some small town, rent an apartment, just lay low for awhile see what happens. They can’t follow me forever or can they? Maybe I should make a radical move out west California or Canada, what about Europe?

 
    At the buffet he sits alone at a corner table. The breakfast crowd has thinned out being 9 am the business people have all hoped their respective flights. This morning he has chosen well: the French toast with just enough butter and maple syrup, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and some melon cubes. It’s all he wants to do, just eat breakfast, if that was all there was to life, breakfast, just eat breakfast and go back to bed, sleep, sleep that great forgetting sphere. His revelry is awaken by the sight of the attractive young waitress, “is everything okay sir?”
    “Yes, yes just fine thanks,” he fakes a smile.
    Outside he tosses his bag into the back seat of his blue sedan and jumps into the driver’s seat turning the key he looks into the rearview mirror while backing out of the parking space. No one knows I’m here he keeps saying to himself, it’s all right no one knows. He pulls forward into the drive ready to merge into the highway traffic, when suddenly he slams on the breaks as his heart jumps upon hearing the screaming sirens, “oh no!” he looks to his left to see the rapidly approaching police car appear then speed past, “I can’t live like this,” he says out loud as his white knuckles grip the steering wheel.

CHAPTER 42

 
 
    He waits patiently sitting in his car outside her office. If she’s on the move I should know I should know something soon. He sips at his Styrofoam cup, “Damn, how much coffee am I going to drink?” Nice gig, he thinks, staking out the FBI all day. Who would have thought I’d ever rise to such an occasion, not me that’s for sure, not that boy back in parochial school earmarked for the priesthood, and now just sipping cold coffee waiting for Jill to make a move. She’s got to know something. They’ve got to have some idea where Jim Dunbar is running to. I really want to get this job done and over with and then plead my case for release from their service. His mind wanders, playing back the past, the great missteps oh how stupid! Stupid! Stupid! At least there’s still time to turn it all around. Such a large inheritance, I could do a lot with that cash. Maybe I should just go to grandfather and spill the beans, make my confession,